The Boss Man Cometh
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Garcia/Hotch/Morgan - When Derek Morgan steps out of line in a way only he can, can Penelope Garcia save him before the boss man cometh? TWOSHOT
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: We have a couple of announcements for you all today. We're proud to announce that signups are open for the Fanfic Challenge - Round 4 on our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" or, as we like to call it, the "PYOP Challenge" (pick your own pairing challenge) through September 1st. For those interested, simply go to the forum to the PYOP Challenge thread and sign up with your favorite pairing. On September 2nd, we'll assign you a scenario to write provided by some of our lovely fellow authors. This will give everybody an opportunity to write what they love and provide readers with some awesome stories. Please sign up at the forum or shoot us a PM signifying your willingness to participate. So, please come join the fun and let's make this the most successful challenge yet!**_

_**We also have wonderful new interviews with the lovely Sarramaks and hot4cullenmen! Please check it out and let them know your thoughts!**_

**_We've also added a fun new prompt thread called, "Fortune Cookie Fridays" based on an idea submitted by LoveforPenandDerek. Come by and check it out...perhaps, it will feed the muse._**

_**And, as always, thanks to everybody still reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting our stories. We couldn't do this without your support!**_

* * *

**The Boss Man Cometh**

**Chapter One**

Glancing up from her bank of highly expensive computers as her lair's door slammed open obnoxiously, Penelope Garcia's eyes widened on her gasping best friend. Dark mocha skin gleamed with sweat as he looked frantically around her office, searching for something.

"You gotta hide me, Baby Girl! I'm dead," Derek panted, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead as he looked over his shoulder at her now-closed door nervously. "So freaking dead," he muttered anxiously, his tone rising to the soprano range quickly as he opened up the small filing cabinet, shaking his head as he slammed it close again.

Canting her colorful red head to the side, Pen measured the familiar man in front of her with practiced eyes. Oh, yeah, her piece of primo Dark Chocolate had definitely screwed the pooch somehow. His darting eyes and perspiring brow spoke volumes without him ever saying a word. She'd learned to read those signs on the proverbial wall of Derek Morgan's psycho years ago. "Okay. What'd you do, my big chunk of chocolaty goodness?"

"I...uhmmm...I screwed up, Mama," Morgan stuttered, his Adam's apple bobbing madly as he finally focused frantic eyes on her.

"Screwed up how, Lovebug?" Garcia asked reluctantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Knowing her love muffin, he could have done anything from the sublime to the absurd…and all points in between. The last time he had showed up unexpectedly in her so-called private zone, he had needed safe passage to an Emily-free zone, the dark-headed agent intent on murdering him in his sleep for setting her up with the FBI's version of a sex-addled octopus. But she had a feeling that this current escapade would top that previous moment. In spades.

"Well," Morgan said oh so casually, scuffing his shoe against her tiled office floor, "you know that little hottie that I was chatting up last night at Houlihan's...the one I thought was so into me?"

With a sinking stomach, Penelope merely lifted one eyebrow and nodded, encouraging him to continue. But, sweet Apple computer, she had a sneaking suspicion where this was going … and it definitely wasn't any place she wanted to be. Honestly, she asked herself rhetorically, when has she become Derek Morgan's all-magical fairy godmother? Apparently the man had been exposed to one too many fairy tales as a child, and had experienced an obvious break in reality at some point in the very recent future.

"Yeah," Morgan gulped audibly, his Adam's apple bobbling frantically. "Anyway, I assumed she was into me. And when she kept asking me questions about the Bureau and our last case…." He paused for a moment as he shook his head, mentally wincing at what had been his apparent lapse of sanity. "Hell, Mama, I thought it was just her way of stroking my ego. And, I admit, I fell for it."

"Oh, God, Derek! What'd you tell her? And who the hell was she?" Garcia asked on a moan, already walking quickly toward her computer and opening her most reliable search engines. May the gods of Google not fail her now.

"Cassandra Hibbs. Washington Post," Derek whispered miserably, hanging his head as he stared at the linoleum floor once again, wondering if it would be possible for the ground to just open him up and swallow him whole. Surely he would come out safe and sound on the other side, wouldn't he? That would be China, right? Definitely far enough away that he could assume a new identity before his current one was obliterated by the forces that be.

"The Post?" Garcia squeaked, jerking her gaze to Morgan's embarrassed face as she slammed her hands against her desk, her keyboard bouncing from the vibration. "As in the most read paper in DC? Third most circulated paper in the US? THAT Post?"

"That's the one," Morgan affirmed unhappily, meeting his friend's eyes for a scant moment before throwing his hands up in the air in protest. "But I didn't know, Mama! She said she was a nurse that wanted to mend my battered heart."

"I'll just bet she did," Garcia huffed, her eyes squinting as she took in the stupidity standing before her. "And while she was doing that, she'd be slipping cyanide into your jello cup, you overgrown teenager!" Taking a deep breath as she efficiently tapped the woman's name into her computer, she shook her head. "How much and what did you tell her, Morgan? And what was her angle?"

"According to the voicemail she left on my phone, she's doing an expose on Bureau practices and used me as her source. Garcia, I trashed Strauss."

"How bad?" Garcia bit out, her eyes flashing as she continued to tap keys with lightening speed.

"Bad enough that Hotch got called into her office first thing this morning. Evidently, Cassandra called Strauss to allow her to comment before she runs with the story."

"You're right," Garcia nodded, her jaw tightening as she hacked through the Washington Post's security measures. "You ARE dead? Any preference on your coffin color?"

"Sweetness, you gotta help me! Is there any chance you could..."

"...send the Post a complimentary virus, thus wiping out their existing stories, and then perform the same service for our Ms. Hibbs personal PC? I'm on it. But, that's not gonna save you from Hotch."

Their eyes met as a door slammed down the hallway in the vicinity of Morgan's office and a deep curse barked through the air. "Garcia?" Morgan yelped, his feet literally leaving the ground as he bounced like a rabid kangaroo.

Lips tightening as she tapped furiously, she shook her head. "Not yet," she hissed. Seeing his impatient eye roll, she growled, "Don't you dare give me that look, Derek Morgan! Is it my fault that the Post has strengthened its firewalls since my last little foray into the world of espionage? Besides, if not for YOUR ego and erstwhile ding-a-ling, we wouldn't be IN this mess!"

Hearing heavy footsteps moving closer as they moved toward her inner sanctum, Morgan panicked. "He's coming!"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: We have a couple of announcements for you all today. We're proud to announce that signups are open for the Fanfic Challenge - Round 4 on our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" or, as we like to call it, the "PYOP Challenge" (pick your own pairing challenge) through September 1st. For those interested, simply go to the forum to the PYOP Challenge thread and sign up with your favorite pairing. On September 2nd, we'll assign you a scenario to write provided by some of our lovely fellow authors. This will give everybody an opportunity to write what they love and provide readers with some awesome stories. Please sign up at the forum or shoot us a PM signifying your willingness to participate. So, please come join the fun and let's make this the most successful challenge yet!**_

_**We also have wonderful new interviews with the lovely Sarramaks and hot4cullenmen! Please check it out and let them know your thoughts!**_

_**We've also added two fun new prompt threads. One is called, "Fortune Cookie Fridays" based on an idea submitted by LoveforPenandDerek. Come by and check it out...perhaps, it will feed the muse. And the other is called, "Getting to Know...YOU! Tell us about yourself" It asks five simple questions that allow readers and authors alike to briefly tell us about who they are.**_

_**And, as always, thanks to everybody still reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting our stories. We couldn't do this without your support!**_

* * *

**The Boss Man Cometh**

**Chapter Two**

"Well," Garcia yelped, waving both hands in the air, "Hide!"

"Where? The only way out of here is through HIM! And I'll never make it, Garcia. Hotch has been looking for a reason to rip Little Derek off my body since the whole Tamara Barnes thing!"

"Do NOT get me started on THAT!" Garcia muttered, rising from her chair and planting one hand on her hip while the other pointed at her black metal storage closet. "Inside!" she ordered on a whisper as Hotch's fist landed angrily against her office door.

"I'll never fit!" Derek hissed hysterically, waving his hands up and down his muscled body in protest.

"Oh, you'll fit," Pen whispered violently, "If I have to remove parts of you, one important piece at a time," she said, shoving him inside the metal cave. "You are NOT taking me down with you!"

"But..." Morgan yelped, attempting to take a step out of the cabinet only to have her surprisingly strong hands slam him back into place.

"Hush!" Garcia shushed him, slamming a hand firmly over his moving lips. "The Boss Man Cometh," she growled as another determined knock sounded against the door. "Be right there!" she called sweetly over her shoulder, slamming the two metal doors on Derek's astounded face.

Hurrying toward her office door as Hotch's annoyed voice ordered, "Garcia, Open up!" and his intolerant fist landed against the wood again, Garcia paused for a bare moment. Patting her colorful hair into place, she pasted a bland smile on her lips and opened the door. "Hey, Boss Man, what brings you to my tiny corner of the universe this fine day?"

Stomping inside, Aaron Hotchner looked around the computer-filled room with narrowed eyes. "Where is he, Garcia? You can't hide him forever and if he isn't here then you know where he is. He can't avoid me forever."

"Ah, Boss, I'm not sure..." Garcia began only to close her lips abruptly as those piercing dark eyes focused on her, pinning her to the proverbial wall. And no matter how much she had prepared to stall the forces of evil, Penelope Garcia knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her shields had been breached. Holding up both her hands, she said quickly, "I'm fixing it, Hotch."

Cocking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, Hotch asked, evenly but deadly, "Fixing what, exactly, Garcia?"

Shifting on her feet uneasily, she muttered, averting her eyes from her supervisor's laser-like glare, "What he did."

"And what is it EXACTLY he's done...besides, shooting off his cocky mouth and serving my ass up to the Goddess of War up there?" Hotch growled, jabbing his hand toward the ceiling.

"It was an accident, Hotch," Garcia began to dutifully defend her best friend. But Hotch's glare quelled her protests, the words dying suddenly on her lips just as quickly as they had began. Damn, Garcia reluctantly admitted, Aaron Hotchner had skillz!

"Tamara Barnes MIGHT have been an accident," Hotch conceded with narrowing eyes, lifting one finger. "But THIS...this was just the product of Derek Morgan's overactive libido. And you know it."

"Maybe," Garcia admitted, praying Morgan remained still and silent in his steel prison, knowing the man's propensity to wiggle and tap, his nervous energy requiring an outlet before he imploded like an over-nuked burrito. "But, like I said, Boss Man, I'm on the case."

"Garcia, the woman has written the article already. According to her earlier phone call, she's within minutes of submitting it to her editor. She agreed to wait an hour and give me time to reply with a comment from the Bureau, but..."

"So, all information is still on her laptop or personal computer, right?" Garcia asked, her eyes lighting up as her

"I'm assuming so," Hotch shrugged. "She works freelance for the Post."

"Goody!" Garcia clapped happily, heading back to her computer with sure steps. "That saves me from having to set a forest fire to the Post's firewall," she said, slipping back into her comfortable desk chair as she continued hacking away at Ms. Hibbs system.

"What are you doing, Garcia," Hotch asked suspiciously, peering at the screen with wary eyes.

Looking over her shoulder, Garcia's cheeks flushed under Hotch's scrutiny. "Do you really wanna know, Boss Man?" she asked meekly, her fingers still tapping.

Considering the question for only a scant second, Hotch shook his head. "I trust your skills remain unrivaled, Garcia. And untraceable."

"Always, my liege," Garcie grinned mischievously, tucking a leg underneath her as she leaned forward, searching for the missing piece of code that would give her the last nail in the proverbial binary coffin.

"Then go for it," Hotch muttered, nodding toward her computer.

Seconds later, Garcia leaned back in her seat, a slow satisfied smile flooding her lips.

"I trust you've technologically wreaked a considerable amount of havoc on our mutual adversary?" Hotch asked, raising a dark brow in inquiry.

"Is Bill Gates a threat to world domination, Boss," Garcia grinned cheekily. "Let's just say every piece of hardware our wanna-be Christiane Amanpour owns, up to and including the PDA she took notes on, has been infected with a horrid little worm, eating information at breakneck speed."

Sighing in relief, Hotch asked, "So, we're, or more specifically, Agent Morgan and the Bureau," he said, his voice raising as he flipped his eyes around the supposedly clear room, " is in the clear."

"Yep," Garcia chirped, patting her arms happily against the padded sides of her chair. "The Bureau's secrets are safe as a bug in a rug."

"Good," Hotch nodded, strolling toward the black metal storage case in the corner of Garcia's office. Rapping against the steel door, he growled, "Ten minutes, my office, Agent Morgan."

And as he strolled past Garcia's desk again, he offered the guilty-looking tech a faint smile. "A pleasure, as always, Penelope."

And watching her regal boss calmly walk out of her office, his footsteps even, Garcia dropped her head against her desk. Thanking God that when the boss man cometh this time, at least he hadn't taken her head as a parting gift to serve at the altar of Erin Strauss. Fortunately for her, she strongly suspected that the required offering would instead take the form of Derek Morgan's manhood.

And, honestly, she thought, looking toward her best friend currently crawling haphazardly from her storage closet, that was something she could live with.

_**finis**_


End file.
